Blur
by Ina-chan
Summary: Race takes a look at his life as his persepective changed throughout the years.


Author's note: I was going through my old floppy disks and found these old fics I posted in the JQML almost more than 8 years ago! WOW! Isn't that amazing! Man! Reading this now seems like I was reading the writings of another person! Anywayz... I figured I might as well do some re-editing with the bad grammar and spelling crap. Usual disclaimers apply. I own nothing related to JQ and Hanna Barbera. And I earn nothing from this venture.

Revised add re-posted: Oct. 31/04

Blur

by Ina-chan

I was nine years old.

You might think that's a mighty tender age for one to realize what one was meant to do in one's life, but it's true. There was no denying it. At age nine, I realized my calling. That age was the turning point in my life that changed my life... what I wanted to do for a living.

I wanted to kill people.

Shocked? Yeah, I get a lot of that. It doesn't really bother me anyway. I'm not into that morality crap anyway. Well... at least back then. And if you're thinking I was your hair-grease-black-leather-jacket-cool-car-rebel-without-a-cause-type of person as a kid, well... you're dead wrong. I was the typical popular bright kid next door who's voted most likely to end up in Harvard with a business suit kind of type. But now you know better, huh? Of course I never said it out loud to the world. It was the typical "love your country", "defend democracy" and "justice the American way" song and dance that a lot of kids in my generation lapped up.

So at fourteen, I ran away from home, lied about my age, enlisted in the army. It wasn't really that hard. I looked older than my age and there was a war going on. A few months later, I found myself shipped to 'Nam. You heard horror stories about war... well they're all true. It is a very cruel thing. You lose friends... people you consider your family... Despite all that however, for a soldier, when you're standing in the middle of the battlefield... somewhat feeling alone despite the presence of your company... surrounded by the unseen foe in the middle of a thick jungle... mud and ice cold rain squishing under your boots and clammy against your skin... nothing beats the feeling of adrenaline rushing through your veins as you battle wits, strength and will against an enemy for survival. At least, that was what it was like for me any way.

Of course, I joined the war a tad bit too late and we had to return to the home front before I became and proved myself to be a "seasoned" fighter. But the big guys upstairs were impressed enough to draft me into the special squad. Intelligence One. Of course, you do understand that this is all the information I am allowed to reveal. If I say any more, I'm going to have to kill you.

So I was a spook for a while. It was a very stimulating and maybe even fun phase of my life. I got to hone my skills. Unlimited travel, good benefits, a near death situation or ten... What else could a guy like me ask for? Everything was going very well until one fateful assignment... when I met her.

I know what you're thinking... 'Aw ain't that sweet? Big tough guy falls for sweet little damsel.'

Sweet? True... she can be that.

Little... well, she ain't going to be playing for any basketball team...

Damsel? snort That she ain't baby, and I still have the scars to prove it!

Sure, I had other women before... mostly pouting creatures with a pair of fluttering eyes... lips... a little thigh here and there... nice set of---ahem. BUT her! Man! She was different. From the moment she almost blew my head off with that rifle of hers... I knew that I would kill without hesitation for this woman... in which I did... but don't tell her that. Despite her strengths, she still frowns upon the killing aspect of my job description.

It was like one of those whirlwind romance fairy tales. Of course time went by like a blur and before I knew it I was sitting in my living room with my one-year-old daughter sitting on my lap.

That was when I hit another turning point.

One moment we were playing a perpetual game of 'peek-a-boo' then suddenly the kid looks up at me solemnly and says:

"Dada."

Looking down at my baby's big innocent green eyes looking back up at me in adoration... it made me realize something. I was a 'Dada.' It felt... weird... a little scary... but... sorta nice. Then suddenly I saw my little Ponchita at age seven, jumping up and down excitedly for 'bring-your-kids-to-work-day', asking about what Daddy does for a living and if she could be just like Daddy. Then I found myself at loss for words.

What can I say to my kid when she asks me that question? While other mommies and daddies drove their cars to their offices to shuffle papers, I took a plane to Latin America to assassinate a would-be dictator with a Swiss Army Spork?

I guess you can say that I thoroughly agree now, that once you get a kid of your own, your perspective in life changes. Its funny back then I vowed that this family jig will never happen to me. I mean... I didn't exactly have the perfect family role models...

Don't get me wrong. My mother is probably the best mother a boy can ever ask for. It's just that she doesn't have a strong coping mechanism when it comes to dealing with hard core stress. Let's just say that she has a little hideaway world of her own. The old man didn't really help much with the situation either. He's not the evil-type Dad too. He was just too much of a dreamer... who never really woke up to reality. Ended up to a chuga-lug the occasional bottle here... the rest there. Disappearing for days... sometimes weeks... 'till he never came back... Now that it did, I made an oath that I will be the exact opposite...

Then, it was as if the ghosts of my past were mocking me. My own personal situation started to turn sour. I guess with all that was happening, the only logical thing for me to do was to give in and save the marriage.

I tried. I really tried. But after years of being trained... being encouraged to do the things that I do... you start to actually like it... enjoy it... be addicted to it... The life I choose to live was unfair and unsafe for my wife, and for my daughter. So in mutual respect and civility, we ended the fairy tale. As cruel as it may sound, I also agreed that it would be for the best, as well as for her safety, that I limit my contact with my Ponchita. I really loved her you know.

I love the both of them.

It was a very humbling experience to watch the angel of my life, her face pressed against the window waving goodbye and disappearing into the distance. I felt very ashamed standing there at that moment. Because right then and there, I knew that I failed my oath... I became my father.

As that stupid song goes... Life goes on. Of course it's never the same. You never really notice things around you until the fates decide to gang up on you and beat you up. Losing my family made me open my eyes and question a lot of things about myself, about what I do.

It really... well it sucks to find out that you don't like the answers... the TRUTH behind those questions. My superiors do not exactly tolerate insubordination. So in 'respect' to my previous outstanding services and with 'sympathetic consideration' to my psychological and emotional being, they assigned me to a simple cut and paste job. It was really more of a 'humility' order for their part. I promised that this was going to be the last one, finish this seven month contract then I'm out of this rat race. Imagine, a top agent assigned to baby-sit an overfunded government brainiac and his brat.

According to the files, an internationally known psycho got wind of this new project the good doctor was working on. Hired some goons and managed to his hands on the wife. The one in charge of the rescue operation bungled, the bad guys panicked, bomb blew up, incinerating everything within a 3 mile radius... including the hostage and 15 good men. Of course the damned government is determined that the situation will not repeat itself. The kid was still a potential target and of course the administration had to protect its assets.

Little did I know that once more I will encounter another turning point in my life.

My employer was not enthusiastic about the necessity of a bodyguard. Nonetheless he accepted its importance. I assumed the doctor was also aware of the imposed situation of my assignment. No hard feelings, this is just business. Everything will be terminated at the all clear.

And so I believed until I met the boy.

Little Jonny, only five-years-old and already exhibiting the symptoms of juvenile delinquency... Or so the sixth and last governess informed me upon my arrival (which was incidentally the same day she resigned without hesitation.) The kid apparently developed a strong sense of mistrust toward strangers and was very paranoid with the absence of his father, not that I blame him. Still, it was a very irritating to realize that I was going to do double shift as a nanny as well because no one could last more than two days in the job.

The brat was indeed a challenge. He was very angry. The problem was, I think he didn't fully really understand why he felt angry. So he's basically focusing all his anger to a convenient scapegoat... who happened to be mainly me at the moment. And it isn't easy to protect a client who was being overly uncooperative. Since it is impossible to leave the kid behind during the doctor's travels, we had to bring the little diablo along. What can I say? It was hell.

It became almost a game between the two of us. He'll try to get into any form of trouble, and I figure out a way to stump him before he even makes the first step. I have to thank my daughter for training me on how a five year old thinks. Of course it got harder and harder and more creative along the way. GOD! This kid was persistent! But it would seem that the whole thing had its benefits. The kid had something to focus his anger on and it seemed to help him regain an ability he lost along with his mother.

To trust.

Needless to say, at the end of the contract, I found myself resigning from government employment and offering my services to Dr. Benton Quest. Who would have known that those seven months would become seven years?

Man! Has it been that long? Seven years... I can't help feeling very old looking back at my life through those years like that... and beyond. But it's very difficult not to be reflective upon how your perspective in life can change drastically. Such as watching the sullen angry four-year-old tot you helped raise grow up into a confident bright eleven-year-old boy. And realizing that the process can make you realize that you do have the ability to obtain beliefs that you never thought you could ever have... like morality... an appreciation for life... maybe even fatherhood?

Maybe its about time I stopped hiding my head in the ground. If I can be a role model for a kid not even remotely related to me, why can't I do the same for my own? I think my daughter deserves a real relationship with her father other than letters, birthday cards, the occasional phone call, and the rare visits.

I guess I deserve it too.

It looks like I have to retract that 'calling' I thought I heard when I was only nine years old. I guess I misheard a bit. I think it was really saying is 'to protect' what I desperately wanted at that age. A family... a real family... MY family. But if I have to crack a few heads to do just that... well hey! Let's just see anyone out there try to stop me.

Old Author's squawk:

Ah well... stream of consciousness... love the stuff. Kinda hard to follow sometime though. Well, I know I'm a self proclaimed W.A.R. person, but one of strongest weapons a soldier going to battle can have is to know thy enemy. My limited Classic JQ and my TRA viewing has left me with not much stuff on Race's past. Thus you see my over active imagination at work. As well as my passion for tragic characters. I also wanted to make some form of connection between the Classic series and the TRA series, which is mainly Jessie's existence and introduction. Well... I hope you liked my version... though somewhat incomplete. It's tough to drag explanations through stream of consciousness and I'm already having a hard time trying to figure out how a guy would think. I seriously doubt if an actual guy in his 30's (approximately at this setting) would actually start thinking like that. I know my dad is becoming more and more reflective lately... sometimes to the point of preacherly annoyance...

Ina-chan


End file.
